


An Idiot's Guide to Not Falling in Love

by ladyinprocessing



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Soulmates, apparently i cant write a fic where fallon doesnt cry a lot, ooc as always, the end gave me a cavity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-18 16:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyinprocessing/pseuds/ladyinprocessing
Summary: Everyone is born colour blind, their vision clouded with blue and grey, until they touched their soulmate for the first time. Then, their world would scream with colour. Everyone but Fallon Carrington.





	An Idiot's Guide to Not Falling in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I would just like to thank Sarah (@/peachgillies on Twitter) for beta reading this! She was super helpful and so nice about my terrible grammar.
> 
> Happy reading!

 

**Step One: Remember Why You Can't Fall in Love**

She didn't believe in soulmates.

The myth that one's vision was, by default, clouded with blue and grey didn't apply to her - it never had. She could see in colour; she had been able to since she could remember. For everyone else, this wasn't the case until they touched their soulmate for the first time. Only then would their world explode with colour. She never had that. She was confident in saying she didn't have a soulmate — if they even existed (she always believed the same corporations who pushed Valentine's Day had invented them). Her parents weren't soulmates. One had to tolerate another on a basic level to be their soulmate - that was her guess, anyway. It was unlikely she had one at all. That's what the girls had always told her when she was at Penley.

She'd grown up listening to the other little girls recount the oh-so-romantic tales of their parents' meeting - finding their one true love. The stories were always the same: brushing past one another in the street or shaking hands in a meeting. It used to upset her, how her parents loathed one another and only stayed together because of she and her brother, but everyone else's parents loved each other. Her parents never seemed to realise how miserable their fighting made their children. She used to crave to see in monochrome, just so she could be like anyone else. She would spend hours scouring the internet for evidence of others who didn't have a soulmate, but she found none. She was an anomaly. It wasn't unlike her to be.

Of course, she differed from everyone else. It didn't take long for her to realise the lives of others shouldn't affect her — she was _Fallon Carrington_. She had accepted there wasn't one person made just for her, and she no longer cared. She couldn't always get what she wanted (as her father liked to always remind her), as much as it pained her to say it.

There was one point in her life where she'd questioned whether she'd met her soulmate early on and forgotten about it. That had been just after her brother, Steven, had met his husband. They didn't have to say anything about it, anyone could tell just by how he looked at Sam. Steven and Sam were soulmates, without question. Fallon decided against the idea, though. After a long while of consideration, she realised even as a young child she knew what a soulmate was, and how important it was. She wouldn't have forgotten.

At twenty-five, she had accepted it entirely. She'd found someone else who didn't believe in them. They were content pretending our relationship wasn't controversial, pretending it wouldn't go up in flames the second that he found his soulmate - when he would come to realise that she just wasn't the person for him. She prayed that day would never come.

She waltzed around with Michael on her arm, letting the media believe that they were soulmates. That _was_ what the rock on her ring finger insinuated, anyway. She loved Michael; she did. But, somehow it felt wrong. They weren't meant to be, and they both knew that. He was comfortable where he was, and she was afraid of change. It worked for them, so they stayed that way. They stayed where it was safe - where they didn't have to think about the consequences of their actions.

 

* * *

 

 

"I love you," he'd promise her, repeating the words as he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her wrists.

"Really? How much?" She'd tease, but would never imitate him. She thought it cruel to use the L-word. She felt it, just not in the way she wanted to. He made her feel guilty. Her insides squirmed as she let him blindly commit to something she knew would never last.

"Enough to know that you love me too, even if you're too afraid to say it."

 

* * *

 

 

Michael proposed six weeks after they got back together - six weeks after the fire. He had put so much effort into making it perfect, just for her.

Paper lamps hanging by strings broke the stark darkness of the manor grounds. It was beautiful. He wasn't the foolish one for asking her to marry him; she was foolish for saying yes.

She was leading him along like a lost puppy, only for her to get hurt in the long run. He would move on to his soulmate, the love of his life. That would leave Fallon to wallow and adopt too many dogs. She'd end up like her mother. But, for now, she was happy keeping him with her.

Michael was the closest she'd ever have to a soulmate. He'd put up with her nonsense for almost six years. Something told her no one else would ever do that for her.

Perhaps the universe was playing a sick joke on her, punishing her for something she did in a past life. She would have given anything for Michael to be her soulmate. It was cruel he was someone else's when she had no one. She was independent and more than proud of it, but even the most autonomous of people longed companionship. Even if he didn't make her feel like they were the only people on the planet when he kissed her, he tried. At that point, that's all Fallon wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

They'd been engaged for three weeks when it happened; when they both realised it wasn't working. They weren't even keeping the act up anymore. _Soulmates_ didn't argue the way they did, and they certainly didn't contemplate fake marriages with other men as Fallon did. Not even her ever-absent mother believed them, and she hadn't seen her daughter in ten years. Their facade had begun to crumble around them without their notice. Still, they pretended. There was nothing worse than a damaged reputation. The opening of her best friend Monica's club put the nail in the coffin. There was no going back after that.

She had shoved the memories of Kirby to the back of her mind, stored with care in a padlocked box inside a safe, lest she stumble over it by accident. It was better to move on than to dwell on all the conflict she had caused in both Fallon's life and head. The shrink that her father hired after her parents' divorce had told her to forget about anything that had negative connotations to her mother; Kirby was most of them. The redhead had somehow caused the argument that finally killed Blake and Alexis' marriage. Unlike every other child of divorce, Fallon blamed Kirby for her parents' divorce instead of herself.

Fallon felt like she was fifteen again when her eyes laid on the other woman. To see the redhead in her dress, her grandmother's necklace... She couldn't breathe. She was right back in her father's study, yelling about how the younger girl was ruining her life - and she had. It took several moments for her to process the sight, and for her breath to find her lungs again. She had such a visceral reaction to seeing Kirby that it made her disoriented. The surrounding room somehow was moving too slowly and too quickly all at once. It was as though her brain had fallen out of her skull when she eventually reacted. After attempting to ignore her (which took everything she had - Fallon wasn't great at letting things go), but Kirby didn't back down. Fallon didn't dare, either. Not to Dirty Kirby.

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

She had started it after all.

If Kirby hadn't grabbed Fallon's hair it wouldn't have happened. The bitter reunion _could_ have been much less violent, but they could never do things the easy way. It was a blur after that. All Fallon could remember was their wrists touching, just for a moment, and time had stopped. The lights of the club pulsed brighter around them as they took a step back from one another. Everything but she and Kirby came to a screeching halt as the pair stared at each other, resentment and anger morphing to confusion and disbelief. The missing feeling the brunette had experienced with Michael disappeared. Everything fell into place. It was as if Kirby was...

 _No_.

Fallon didn't remember feeling this way any other time she'd come in contact with Kirby when they were kids. They used to have constant play-scuffles and makeovers before everything changed between them. Even when Fallon slapped the other girl for stealing her shoes at fourteen, she had felt nothing of the sort. They'd known each other since Kirby was nine days old and this was the first time this had ever happened.

"Fallon-" Kirby spoke, the choked out syllables spilling from her parted lips.

"Get away from me," Fallon almost growled as she pulled her arm away from the other woman. She straightened out her dress before taking Michael's arm again and continuing upstairs. Her breath didn't steady for almost an hour - the mere thought of Kirby being nearby made her skin crawl. Goosepimples crept up her bare arms as she sat restlessly in the VIP area of the club. It was unclear if it was because she wanted her so, or if it was because of their interaction. She didn't care, she was just glad she was away from her psychotic childhood playmate.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon sat and watched as people moved around in slow motion, mingling and gradually getting drunker, while Michael kissed her bruising knuckles. She didn't even remember how she'd hurt them. Her confrontation with Kirby seemed like it had been hours ago, when really it had only been ten minutes. Her head throbbed with over-thought, and reasonings about why it had happened, why it felt as though the world had slowed around them; why she felt the way she was supposed to feel with Michael, with Kirby. It felt wrong. There was no way on heaven, hell or earth she would allow herself to feel like that. Not about Kirby Anders.

"Are you okay? I heard about what happened at the club," Steven asked the second she came through the door. By the looks of it, he had been pacing the foyer - he had been doing that a lot, lately. It was understandable, having a baby with a woman twice your age while you're married to a man must have been difficult to process.

"I don't want to talk about it," Fallon snapped on her way past as she stormed up the stairs. She'd told Michael to sleep in the guest bedroom that night - she'd rather reason what happened on her own than getting lectured. She heard her brother and fiance talking about her as she ascended the stairs, whispering about how she needed time to cool off. She wished they'd stop talking about her like she was only a vessel for emotions.

 

* * *

 

 

Her hand throbbed, and an ache was radiating from her neck further down her spine from when Kirby had tried to rip her hair out. All she wanted was to fall asleep, yet her brain always circled back to the redhead. Whatever had happened, Fallon didn't know how to describe it. Just the thought of it caused her mouth to go dry. It had unsettled her; it was exactly how everyone described touching their soulmate for the first time - minus the colours - her vision was already in technicolour.

Kirby wasn't her soulmate. She wouldn't allow it. There was no way that soulmates could ever feel so much hatred toward one another. It made no sense.

She didn't sleep. Thoughts of the redhead were terrorising her train of thought keeping her conscious, and she could get no peace.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon continued on with her life as though the incident at the club hadn't even happened. There were tensions with Monica, and her mother was as insolent as ever. Things like that were what kept her head on straight, change made her want to rip her own eyelashes out.

She continued to tiptoe around with Michael, making a show of the lie of their ever straining relationship. Bickering became arguments, comfortable silences became suffocating and hushed whisperings of sweet nothings became animus glaring from across the room. Their relationship was collapsing from beneath them and yet, they still paraded around as though their cracking facade was perfectly intact.

She was confident she'd never see Kirby again. While she _was_ back in Atlanta, Blake had banished her from the manor eleven years ago, and she wasn't Alexis; she didn't have the excuse of wanting to see her children. Anders could go visit her back in Australia if he wanted to, but evidence suggested otherwise. The redhead wouldn't dare step foot in their part of Buckhead - she had already pushed it going to the club.

Sam had told her he worried about her, but she had scoffed and told him to grow up. She was _fine_. Yes, her hand hurt like a bitch and Kirby was haunting her every thought, but she was okay.  There was nothing wrong with her. She just couldn't the redhead out of her head.

 

* * *

 

 

**Step Two: Avoid the Person You're Falling in Love With**

Steven's baby shower was going well. Guests doted over Melissa and her bump, while Blake was elsewhere getting drunk. Everything was going according to plan. That was, until Fallon saw a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair out of her peripherals. Kirby was hounding her father, following him around like a lost puppy as he barked orders at the servers. Fallon ignored her for now - at that moment, she was doing no harm. She plucked a flute of champagne from a passing tray as she talked to a long forgotten ex-business partner while she kept her eye on the pair from the corner of her eye. Fallon smiled and talked about how excited she was to be an aunt. She felt a lot more comfortable like this, faking conversations with people she’d barely speak to again. It was easier than facing Michael. They hadn’t spoken in two days - he was with his mother and sister, citing that they needed some family time. He hadn’t been home once since they got engaged, and he needed to go home and tell his mom on his own. The two of them had decided it would be best, especially after what happened with his father.

“We’re going to do the gender reveal in about ten minutes, could you go find dad, please?” Steven asked her once _John_ or _Bob_ or _whatever_ his name was had finally left her alone and went to investigate the snack table. She turned to face her brother, pleading not to have to with her face. She rolled her eyes and huffed in protest when he stared at her blankly, refusing to back down.

“Fine. Don’t blame me if he says something stupid because he’s drank a whole bottle of scotch in an hour and a half.”

Fallon weaved through the small crowd of tipsy guests, trying to spot her father. He was most likely in his office sulking over a bottle of brown liquor. She stopped outside the door, knocked twice before entering. She didn’t find her father there, but her mother. Alexis was about to leave when her daughter almost walked right into her.

“Oh, Fallon! What are you doing in here?” she asked, standing up straighter. Her eyes flitted around the room, she was on edge.

“I was looking for dad. Have you seen him? The gender reveal is in seven minutes.”

“No, sorry. Try upstairs. He always did like watching parties from the balcony.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby had ruined everything. Everything had been going well, everyone was getting along fine. She didn’t have to expose Alexis and Anders then, but she had. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to do it. The redhead stood in the centre of everything, a smug smirk plastered on her face, as if she thought she’d somehow done something right. Her face fell when Melissa admitted her baby wasn’t Steven’s and left when she saw her half-brother’s reaction. The look of utter heartbreak on her face winded her, by the looks of it. Fallon would almost have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t ruined their brother’s life. Kirby looked to her father for less than a second before leaving the room at a near-sprint. It took forty seconds for the sound of the heavy front door slamming shut and for Fallon to leave too, storming through the kitchen and into the staff’s quarters.

She hadn’t been downstairs in ages. But, in the eleven years, she’d kept to the main house, she had never been so angry at her mother. The news didn’t affect her directly, but it felt like a slap in the face that her brother was no longer just her brother. Not to mention, she had to share him with Kirby, the girl that she loathed with everything she had. The girl who had kept Fallon up for the last week, who had managed to fill a void inside her with only a touch of their fingers. Fallon stopped outside a door and stared at it for a few moments, unresolved, undetermined feelings flaring like allergies.

Kirby’s room was on the bottom floor, and the door had always been kept closed. None of the new staff had moved into it since then - it was still Kirby’s room. Fallon knew for a fact it sat in the exact way it had the day the girl had moved out, the small hand-me-down dollhouse sitting in the far corner of the room and the countless number of stuffed bears sitting in neat rows on her twin bed, which was pushed against the periwinkle walls. She could picture the dust piling up on the trinkets resting on shelving and on the ivory curtains. The girls had spent many a night sitting at the bay window, playing truth or dare and braiding one another’s hair, before their friendship went pear-shaped.

When Kirby first moved back to Australia, Fallon found herself staring at the door for moments at a time when she went to look for one of the members of staff. Kirby’s _Paramore_ poster still hung on the door, acting as a painful reminder the brunette no longer had anyone to torment. It never was supposed to get as bad as it did. Fallon never remembered there were consequences for her actions.

It hurt more than she had expected it to when she made eye contact with Hayley Williams hanging on the oak door. Her heart dropped, dangling somewhere between its usual place and the pit of her stomach, as she remembered their biweekly slumber parties as children.

A lump rose in her throat as she noticed the door was slightly ajar. Someone had gone in. For a few moments, she debated if it was a good idea to check, in case a guest had wandered in. After a few moments, she pushed the door to see Anders standing in the middle of the room, staring dejectedly at a picture of him and his daughter that he’d picked up from her dresser. He didn’t see Fallon, so she tried to slip out before he did.

“I should have gone back with her,” his voice halted her. She turned around slowly to look at him. His face bore a solemn expression, like he had to deliver news of someone’s death. “I spent more time raising you and Steven than I did my own daughter.” Anders had this kind of relationship with Sam, where they’d open up and have heart-to-hearts they’d never mention again. Fallon had never been one people confided in. She didn’t know how to react.

“You have her here now,” she started after a moment, choosing her words cautiously, “you can’t change the past, but you can change the future.” She thought she sounded like a fortune cookie, but she wasn’t good at giving advice and was trying her best. Anders smiled weakly at her before lowering his head again. She took that as her cue to leave.

 

* * *

 

Fallon’s bedroom looked a bombsite.

Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor as she tried (and failed) to find something suitable for building houses in Paraguay. She owned very little that would be appropriate – stilettos and thousand-dollar dresses were not. She groaned from frustration and fell back onto her bed, creasing the newly straightened linens. The door opened and closed with a soft thud. Michael was home. He sat next to her on the bed and waited for her to sit up before speaking.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his last act of endearment towards her.

“Is everything okay? Your mom didn’t take the news of the engagement well, did she?” Dread coursed through her. She knew they weren’t soulmates, he knew they weren’t soulmates, but she didn’t think they were so bad at acting it his mother wasn’t convinced.

“I didn’t talk to my mom.”

She suddenly knew what was coming. She’d been bracing herself for this for over five years. He would be leaving her. He’d met his soulmate.

“You met her, didn’t you?” Fallon asked, but it came off as more of an accusation than a question. She pulled her hand from his grasp and stood up, shaky on her half-asleep legs. “We knew this was going to happen, Michael. It was stupid of us to think otherwise. We always knew this was temporary.”

It hadn’t felt temporary. After five years with him, it never felt like it would end to her. She knew this was going to happen eventually, but it had crushed the dull glimmer of hope she had of having a soulmate of her own. She expected it to hurt, for her heart to ache. It didn’t. She wasn’t prepared for it to hurt as little as it did.

“Yeah. I met her.” Michael said,“I’m sorry for leading you on all this time. I hope you find yours too, soon. You deserve someone who treats you right. I’m sorry.”

“Never apologise for something you can’t control. This was a two-way street. I lead you on as much as you lead me. We knew this wouldn’t last forever when we started this. Don’t be sorry.” Fallon told him not to apologise because she knew she’d have to apologise too. She was bad at it, and she never did things she was bad at.

“I guess this is yet, then,” Michael said after a stiff silence. She nodded, taking off her ring and setting it in his palm.

“Yeah.”

He left half an hour later, after collecting his things. Fallon felt a substantial weight lift from her shoulders, she felt free for the first time in five and a half years.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon almost choked when Kirby walked onto the jet and made herself comfortable on the seat closest to the door. She had caused Steven to run away, yet, she deemed it appropriate to go visit him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the brunette asked once she’d reached the other woman’s seat. Her voice was harsh, laced with the tensions felt by the other passengers.

“Steven’s my brother, too, Fallon. I want to fix this. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted Alexis to face the consequences of her actions. I never meant for Steven to get hurt. I actually thought you were my sibling, not him,” the redhead defended herself, sitting up straight and staring straight at Fallon. She meant every word she said.

“So, you were okay with hurting me?” the brunette accused, her voice rising an octave in offence.

“That’s not what I said. You’re twisting my words.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“No, it’s not!” Kirby snapped, her voice raised higher than she intended, “Just leave me alone, Fallon.”

Fallon pursed her lips but obliged. She sulked back to her seat halfway down the plane. She crossed one leg over the other and turned on a movie on her laptop. Every so often, her gaze would drift from the screen to the redhead, who was curled up in her chair, asleep. The brunette kept an eye on her because she didn’t trust her – not because their fight at the club was still nagging at her from the back of her mind.

 

* * *

**Step Three: Close Yourself Off Emotionally from the Person**

 

Kirby moved into the manor - back into the tiny box on the bottom floor she’d grown up in.

Fallon didn’t like seeing her so often again, nor having to eat breakfast with her or hear her watching terrible reality shows from the living room. The redhead had free reign over the house again and it pulled the brunette right back to when she was fifteen and Kirby was twelve - right back to when they would scream at each other over minor issues and have standoffs over the TV. If Fallon didn’t have such a dislike for the other woman, she’d almost feel guilty.

Kirby had been living in the manor for a week when Fallon finally hit her breaking point. They were the only people at the breakfast table, Sam was still asleep, Blake was on an escapade with his new girlfriend and Alexis was (for once in her life) staying in her loft. The pair ate in silence, sitting opposite one another and making glaring eye contact every few minutes. The sound of the redhead drumming her fingers against the tabletop was irking the other woman beyond belief.

“Will you stop that?” the brunette barked, looking up from her breakfast. She stared at the redhead, daring her to rebuke. She did.

“So, my presence is finally getting to you?” Kirby asked coyly with a tilt of her head. She leant back in her chair and crossed her arms, “It took long enough.”

“Your presence has always annoyed me, you know that. I’m just surprised you’re putting yourself through this again.”

“I’m not putting myself through anything. I’m here to spend time with my dad, not to be your punching bag again.”

They fell into another angered silence, staring one another down as they continued to eat. Light eyes locked with dark, animosity pulsing through the space between them. Fallon’s heart rate started to pick up, and a lump started to form in her throat as she glared. She would not be the first to break.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eye contact is _way_ too intense?” Kirby broke the silence after two full minutes of them staring at one another. She folded her hands under her chin and leant forward, using her elbows as support.

“It’s a skill.”

The redhead smiled, just for a second. To an outsider, this could have been seen as banter between old friends or even flirting. It wasn’t - Fallon promised herself it wasn’t. They were still staring at each other, but it had become a lot less hostile. It was more intrigue than anything. Their breakfasts had been abandoned, they were too engrossed in one another’s features to eat. It was unflattering.

“Good morning!”

Sam walked into the dining room, ripping Kirby’s gaze from Fallon’s face. He looked between the two women, an eyebrow raised as he chose food from the spread and sat down. “You two are awfully quiet.”

“Just enjoying each other’s company,” Fallon said dryly, taking the napkin from her lap and placing it on the table. “If you two would excuse me, I have things to do.”

She then left the table; she had a shopping date with Monica to get ready for.

 

* * *

  

“I heard Kirby’s living in the manor again,” Monica said. The pair sat in a coffee shop, people watching as they drank their lattes.

“Yeah. It’s weird having her around, but it’s better than it was before,” Fallon said as she absentmindedly circled the top of her mug with her index finger. She’d hoped to have today to clear her head of thoughts of Kirby. Of course, Monica had to bring her up. Their conversation this morning was lingering in the back of her mind… their scuffle at the club opening still lingered in the back of her mind.

“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

“I’d rather not.”

Fallon took a sip from her coffee, staring deliberately at the table. She _did_  want to talk about Kirby -  talk about how she was the only thing the brunette could ever think about. But, she had no idea how to vocalise the conflicting feelings brewing inside her. She didn’t know how to tell anyone the mere thought of the redhead gave her goosepimples and made her head spin. If she didn’t know why it was happening, she was clueless as to how to tell anyone about it. She wished Steven was home - she could talk to him about it and he’d listen, know what to do. She kept her mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon walked right into Kirby as she walked into the kitchen in search of Anders. A bolt of electricity shocked straight up her spine when their arms touched for a second, and the room got brighter. She took a step back and looked at the redhead - she was carrying several pints of ice cream and two spoons. She’d almost dropped them in the collision.

“Do you really need that much ice cream?” the brunette asked, straightening her outfit and putting her weight on one foot.

“Sam misses Steven, and this is his favourite,” Kirby said, holding up one of the pints, “I should go give these to him before they melt.”

“Yeah. Oh, have you seen your dad? I wanted to ask him about...”

“He’s out. He’ll be back in an hour or so. Do you want to join us? You couldn’t be taking Steven staying in Paraguay well, either.”

“Okay.”

Sam was in the living room, barely visible under a mountain of throw blankets and pillows. The Netflix home screen was displayed on the television as he scrolled through the romantic comedies section.

“Sam, I’m not watching another rom-com with you. Put something else on, please!” Kirby whined as she sat on the sofa next to him and handed him one of the pints.

Fallon stood sheepishly in the doorway, spoon in her hand. The redhead had been helping Sam like this since his husband had left, this was _their_ thing – watching terrible movies and binge-eating ice cream. Fallon was imposing. She wanted to slip away into her room to watch _Gone With the Wind_ alone. She almost did, when Kirby patted the spot on the sofa next to her and held out a pint of ice cream.

“Why are there no good movies on here? I’m not starting another series with you. I can’t believe you told me how the Gilmore Girls finale ended while we were watching the second season!” Sam said, looking through the comedies.

“That’s on you. It ended like ten years ago, you really should have watched it,” Fallon said, taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“It wasn’t on Venezuelan TV!”

“Whatever,” Kirby rolled her eyes as she turned on _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_. There was a synced groan from Fallon and Sam.

They watched _Bridesmaids_ and _Pitch Perfect_ afterwards before Sam fell asleep and Fallon couldn’t bear to sit with Kirby on her own and left to go to bed. She didn’t sleep, the feeling of the redhead drowsily using her shoulder as a pillow burning her skin and a million thoughts of her racing through her brain.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon stared at the door for a long time, debating if she should knock. She was weighing up the pros and cons when Kirby walked out of her bedroom.

“Is there a reason you’re staring at my door like a stalker?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“You took down the _Paramore_ poster,” the brunette responded without thinking, the words escaping before she could process them.

“Yeah, it’s not two thousand and nine anymore. Do you need something?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Kirby shot her a quizzical look before walking back into her room and gesturing for Fallon to follow her. The room sat in the same state it had two weeks ago, before she’d moved, apart from the fact it was freshly hoovered and dusted. They sat next to one another on the bed in a comfortable silence for a few moments before the redhead broke it.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I did. You know at the Colby Club opening...” Fallon started but Kirby interrupted.

“I’m sorry for attacking you. I was just…” she trailed off.

“No, no. That’s... whatever. Did you feel the… the _thing_ when our hands touched?” the brunette asked, her voice so small it could barely be heard. Her mind raced as she awaited an answer.

“No. What are you talking about?” Kirby asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Like when everything in the room kind of just went still and my whole body was tingling. You didn’t feel that?”

“No.”

“But…”

“Fallon, I didn’t feel it.”

Fallon’s stomach twisted into a painful knot as she stared at the other woman, “You’re lying to me. You can’t say you don’t feel this.” She grabbed Kirby’s wrist, sparks shooting up her fingers and into her arm as the colours of the room became twice as vibrant. The redhead shook her head and pulled her hand away.

“I think it’s best that you leave.”

Fallon did, her heart heavy and tears in her eyes. She closed the door and slid down it, swallowing back pathetic sobs as she realised she really didn’t have a soulmate.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon avoided Kirby like the plague. It was proving difficult, as the redhead was constantly trying to talk to her. They sat as far away from one another at meals, stealing longing glances at the other when she wasn’t looking. The brunette’s chest ached every time she saw the other woman laugh at something stupid Sam said or bond with New Cristal. That was supposed to be her, getting to know the redhead again. _They were soulmates_ , at least Fallon thought so.

She felt physically sick. She stood up from the table, thoughts dizzying her as she walked from the room, her legs almost giving out as her head span. She made it to the stairs before she fell forward, resorting to the banister for support. She felt a pair of arms catch and steady her. Electricity ticked its way up her spine; it was Kirby. She helped the other woman upstairs wordlessly before they got to her room.

"Say something," Kirby paused to stop her voice from cracking, "Just say you hate me... Please, just say something, Fallon. This silent treatment is killing me.”

"Just get out Kirby."

The brunette looked down, refusing to look at Kirby. She covered her face with her hands as she sighed.

“No. I’m not leaving until I’ve made things right. You’re my friend and…”

“You’re not my friend, Kirby. Please get out of my room.”

“But, I thought…”

“You thought wrong. Now, _get out_.”

 

* * *

 

 

It had been two weeks since Fallon attempted to have a conversation with Kirby. Tensions at dinner were high as Blake tried to talk about his _Blake Time_ regime and the brunette stared daggers at the redhead, who whispered with Sam obliviously. It boiled her blood that the other woman wouldn’t even pay attention to her anymore. She didn’t even excuse herself from the table when she was finished, she just threw her napkin on her plate and stormed out of the dining room and upstairs into her room.

There was a knock on her door a few moments later, when she’d changed into her pyjamas and was about to get into to bed. She supposed it was her father, coming to lecture her about table manners. She was almost disgusted when Kirby stood at the other side.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she spat, getting defensive. The redhead didn’t respond verbally, but rather placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her. On the _lips_ , with _her_ lips. For the first few seconds, Fallon didn’t know how to react and stood stiff as a board before she melted into the kiss as she realised this is what she had wanted during all those sleepless nights thinking about Kirby.

Her arms snaked around the other woman’s neck and took a step backwards, bringing the other girl into the room. The door snapped shut as the redhead leant against it, using it for support.

Fallon’s entire body was on fire. Every nerve ending in her body tingled with electricity as Kirby’s lips trailed from hers to her jaw and continued to travel downwards.

“Stop,” the brunette said breathlessly, pulling away and backing off, “You lied to me - you told me you didn’t feel anything. You _lied_  to me.”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry. I was just afraid, okay? We’ve never gotten along… not since we fell out when I was nine. I thought everything would crash and burn - I’m not great at relationships. I felt everything, I swear. I just…” Kirby trailed off, looking at the ground. “I’ve always felt like that. Every time we hugged or play-wrestled as kids, I felt it. You never did, I knew that. I was afraid you were messing with me.” She looked up, her eyes glazed over with tears as she talked about their childhood.

The brunette’s heart broke into millions of fragments. Her intention was never to make Kirby cry. Guilt crept its way up her back and fastened its icy hand around her throat. She nodded her head, blinking quickly in a desperate attempt to get rid of the tears pricking in her eyes. She had never been someone to get emotional over something like this, there was just something about the redhead that made her feel like another person.

“I get it,” she choked out in surprise, “It was driving me crazy and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.”

“You’ve got me now.”

* * *

 

 

**Step Four: Realise You’re Powerless Against Them**

 

They woke up the next morning as a tangle of limbs in Kirby’s bed. They’d moved down there because they thought it less likely for them to get caught there than in Fallon’s room. They were squashed together against the door, the redhead still having the twin bed from when she was twelve. Neither minded too much, they just wanted to be close. Kirby smiled once she noticed Fallon was awake. She greeted the brunette with a soft gentle kiss. It was what a kiss was supposed to feel like.

The two sat in silence for the next few moments, enjoying each other's presence. It was a comfortable silence. Strips of light peeked through the tilted blinds, bathing Kirby in pale yellow light. It was flattering; she looked almost ethereal. Red hair tumbled over bare pale shoulders, covering freckles and otherwise unblemished skin.  Fallon took a moment to let her eyes wander. It felt somewhat predatory, staring at the other girl with her bottom lip between her teeth. She ripped her eyes from Kirby and looked toward the ceiling, trying to break the self-induced tension.

The redhead tapped her chin with an index finger, catching her attention. Fallon lowered her head and bit the inside of her cheek. She suppressed the urge to make a sarcastic comment and instead sighed.

"May I help you?" she said, tilting her head to one side.

"You're paying more attention to the chipped plaster on the ceiling than to me," Kirby said with a faux whine. She gave a short laugh before faking a pout. "What's so interesting about the ceiling?"

"You're teasing me."

“Impeccable deduction skills, right there."

The brunette raised an eyebrow. The muscles around her mouth tensing as she tried and failed to keep a straight face. "Ha-ha."

Kirby laughed, her head fell back as she did. She placed a hand on either side of Fallon's face, forcing the brunette to look at her, "You're too serious. I've been back for a month and I’ve seen you laugh, like, once.”

"That’s because you’re not funny.”

“You’re hilarious.”

This caused the brunette to laugh, resting her head on Kirby as she did, giggles racking her body. They both felt they could have stayed like that all day - so they did. They pretended they didn’t notice Anders walk in close to noon when they were half-asleep and delirious. They pretended not to hear their phones. They pretended it was just them.

No one could ruin this.

 

 


End file.
